Manhattan Wolf Hunt
by VampireDonovan
Summary: A team of vampires lead by Donovan Fletcher hunt a pack of werewolves in Manhattan (In the


Manhattan Wolf Hunt

The Vampire Prince stirred in his seat, he was reading to himself and contemplating the overthrow of a rival. It came natural to one such as him; that is, plotting to thwart a rival while doing even the most mundane or involved of things. He looked up at his chamber door, and it opened a moment later, a black-cowled figure stepped in.

"Lord," the figure nodded with respect.

The Prince cocked an eyebrow and closed his book placing it on his desk. "It's a full moon is it not, where are they?"

"Lord there is a pack roaming the streets of Manhattan. We have a swarm of Nos Feratu agents hiding it from the mortals, but I recommend you send a team to handle things."

"What teams are available for deployment by the bottom of the hour?"

"I believe only Fletcher's team is available my Lord."

The Vampire Prince reached over to a wine bottle on the stand next to his chair, and poured a glass of blood. "Donovan has a team? I thought he just worked with that partner of his, what was his name?"

"Yes, he has assembled a four-man team to hunt the _unchecked_ lupines."

The Prince swirled and tasted his glass. "Who's on his team then?"

"I don't have their actual names, but my informant says that the first member other than himself is his loyal companion, codename Beast. Beast is a seven-foot four Brujah who is well armed and well, _delayed,_ if you know what I mean. The next member is, codename Wind. Wind is an ancient Toreador, I believe he specializes in stealth and information gathering, as well as very subtle assassinations. A definite contrast from Beast, Fletcher sure can pick a team."

The Prince set his glass down. "And the fourth?"

"My information says codename Maverick. Maverick is a filthy rich Ventrue, he is quite the refined type and is skilled with revolvers. Maverick from what I hear, is an unbeatable duelist capable of stunning feats with his weapon of choice."

The Prince looked up at his advisor, "Make the call and have them deploy immediately."

The helicopter's interior was a little crowded with the entire team and the team's equipment. Beast took up an entire bench, the other three members plus Donovan's weapons tech had to share the opposite. Donovan's phone rang, and he shifted in the tight fit to work it from his coat. 

"Donovan Here."

"The Prince just authorized the go-ahead on the hunt in Manhattan, so set down immediately."

Donovan paused to look around at his team, "Give us half-an-hour to handle this one."

He hit end-call and keyed up his headset. "Pilot, find a spot to set us down in Manhattan." There was an acknowledgment, and he reached over to a black case on the floor. He flipped up the latches and handed a radio headset to each member of his team. Being an ex Navy-SEAL Donovan always ran a tight operation; using hands-free communication was just another way he managed to stay on the edge.

Donovan lifted a much smaller case onto his lap and snapped open the latches. It contained a PDA-sized lupine tracking device, he took a look at it, flicked a switch and its bluish screen came to life, it registered a pack of three werewolves moving down the alleyways of Manhattan's Upper East Side. He keyed up on his head set to specify the building for drop-off.

Within only a few minutes the black stealth chopper came to a hover over the designated rooftop. It stirred a gale of wind and dust as the team dropped seven black crates. Donovan hit the roof first, his black trench coat swayed in the vortex of wind, his black shades reflected the helicopter's floodlight, and his black beret was shifted to the right. After him was Maverick, who always found style to take priority over practicality and thusly wore a pinstripe suit everywhere he went. Beast dressed simply, if you call a tailored leather jacket made of the larger part of a cow's hide, _simple_. Wind was the most nondescript of all of them, his cloak and cowl were black as night and concealed his body in its entirety. Probably no one else on the team was sure of everything of that was underneath it. The last one out was Rob, Rob was just some guy Donovan found at a gun show. Needless to say Rob impressed him with his knowledge and marksmanship, he really did need someone to clean and maintain his entire arsenal, run errands during the day, and every so often back him up on an operation.

The gale let up as the chopper turned and lifted to depart into the night sky. The team was left to set up, the werewolves were nearby, probably on the streets below. Each member had their own crate, Donovan opened his, reaching in he removed and holstered his Dessert Eagles, then sheathed his combat knife, and his sword Quantum Wind. The next thing was his bow, he decided to bring a customized Oneida Eagle Pro. When it came to dealing with a werewolf a silver broadhead on a carbon-fiber shaft was a reasonable alternative to a .50 cal silver jacked slug.

Beast opened his case; its contents were simple but effective; a six-foot claymore, and a pair of sawed-off shotguns. Wind opened his case and began meticulously assorting his gear, he slung a crossbow over his shoulder and then loaded a series of wolfs bane serum darts, and a wire tazer. Maverick was the only one that didn't have a crate, his equipment was merely a Ruger Red Hawk and the belt of silver rounds he already carried. 

Donovan looked around as everyone had finished unpacking. "Rob, I want a sniper position set up within three, the rest of you, let's hit the street."

Donovan looked down, it was fourteen stories to the ground and the fire escape would take them all the way there. Beast and Maverick started down the stairs. 

Donovan looked at Wind, "Scout the street below, we'll meet you there in a second."

Wind did a swan dive off of the building and melted into the darkness. Donovan stepped up to the railing and took the plunge as well. Except he wasn't going all the way to the bottom, he caught the railing of every third fire escape until he had an excellent vantage of the city block from the third floor. Maverick and Beast passed him and dropped down to the sidewalk. 

Donovan keyed up over the headset, "Rob, you set up?"

"Yes sir."

"Wind see anything?"

"I smell the bastards, don't you."

Donovan peered down the street from his vantage. "No I don't, were down wind, Damn it!"

Everyone on the team except Beast saw it almost simultaneously. At the entrance to an alleyway a trio of werewolves stood sniffing the air one hundred and twenty yards down the street. The largest was snowy white the one next was dark reddish brown and the third was pitch black. As soon as they noticed the team the black wolf sank into the shadows behind it. The other two charged out into the street toward Beast and Maverick who were standing on the sidewalk bellow the fire escape.

Maverick grinned and leveled his .44 magnum's scope on the red wolf's forehead. He depressed the trigger and tapped the hammer twice. A pair of thunderclaps resounded through the night and a silver jacketed round tore into the lupine's left lung and eyebrow. It arched its back and howled a howl that would have pierced the ears of everyone in miles. Had it not been for the Nos Feratu rituals that kept the mortals out of the area and the sound from entering the ears of anyone that shouldn't hear it.

Donovan nocked an arrow. He put his finger on the string and drew the arrow's shaft across the rest. The limbs flexed as the cams rotated, he lined up the peep on the string to the fiber optic sight, and the middle pin fell over the red wolf. Donovan concentrated, slowly letting out his breath he released his fingers. The bow snapped silently and like lightning gave flight to its silver bladed bird. The arrow flew eighty yards almost instantly and right over the head of the target. The arrow pierced a tire and stuck several inches into the pavement below. As the sound of whistling air poured from the tire the wolf stopped to consider the arrow's source. Donovan cursed himself for miss judging the angle.

Catching on to the action, the four hundred pound locomotive-like Beast broke into a sprint that could be paralleled by only the fastest Olympic sprinter. Beast barreled down the street bellowing a thunderous war cry as he charged, and it was reasons like this that Donovan reconsidered his position on the team. 

Wind who was hanging from a building right over the wolves, shuddered as he watched the boldness of Beast. His black cape swayed in the wind as he pulled his crossbow's trigger. The bolt embedded itself into the red wolf's hide, it almost instantly transferred its serum package into the werewolf's blood stream. Its knees buckled and its head sank low as it grew silent. Wolfs bane toxin flowed like fire through its veins and the monster's fury was quelled in mere seconds as it fell helplessly to the pavement.

Wind keyed up, "Wolf down."

Donovan nocked another arrow and spoke into his headset, "Wind, where the hell is the third wolf?"

"I don't know, it fell out of my sight. It's so damn fast, it moves like a blur through the shadows."

Before Donovan could press the query any further he felt something warm behind him, like the faint kiss of a living thing's breathing. He turned just barely to evade the black wolf's razor claws. The nine-foot beast's claws tore through the fire escape railing, and Donovan found himself shifting his weight to pull a back flip to the ground. He fell the three stories gracefully, landing in a kneel with an arrow drawn and aimed to meet the black lupine in mid-air.

The white wolf raised its claws as its blue eyes began to glow and pulse with arctic fury. The entire street began to freeze over and Beast who was rapidly nearing the white wolf slipped under his own weight. There is a law physics calls inertia, and even though Beast could not understand the math behind it, he did come to understand that he was in motion, and was going to stay in motion. The white wolf couldn't have understood the math either, but he was eagerly anticipating his sliding meal. 

Wind dropped down behind the white wolf, he materialized his tazor and unwound a few feet of wire. Wind was one to come up with the most creative and resourceful uses of his equipment; this case was no different. He used the wire as a lasso and looped it around the werewolf's neck. The wolf was rather curious as to where the wire came from and failed to respond until Wind pressed the button on the tazor. The werewolf did respond; if you call convulsing under current a response. It arched its back as the current sent uncontrollable tremors cursing through its body's musculature. Beast who was still screaming his war cry, bowled over the werewolf, knocking the tazor wire free. The wolf was enough to make Beast lose his momentum, and thusly skidded to a halt not more than ten feet from where the wolf had been planted during the collision. Gaining its orientation, the white lupine started to pull itself to its feet. After being electrocuted and then having its head bashed on pavement, _it_ had also lost momentum, though a different _kind_ of momentum than Beast had. A _pair_ of groggy eyes opened to a _pair_ of shotgun muzzles, and a _pair_ of large fingers pulled a _pair_ of large triggers. The wolf didn't feel a thing as a _pair_ of silver jacked slugs entered its ocular sockets and removed the back half of its skull.

It was reasons like these that Donovan had ensured a place on the team for Beast.

Beast observed with near glee the mess he created, and in a coarse baritone voice announced, "Wolf down."

Donovan was still watching the fire escape for his attacker. "Wind, were the hell is the shadow wolf, I can't keep track of him?"

Maverick, who was standing beside Donovan, tapped him on the shoulder then pointed down the street to where the red wolf had fallen. The black wolf unveiled its cloak of shadows and stood hunched over the body of his incapacitated pack member.

It was a perfect profile shot for Donovan. Without a seconds hesitation he drew an arrow, as the string slid off his fingers the silver bladed arrow found its mark. The beast staggered slightly as the arrowhead passed in between two of his lower ribs, the black monstrosity felt the carbon-fiber shaft sink in all the way to the fletchings. 

This was one those times that Donovan felt a wave of confidence as a skilled and unbeatable hunter. He grinned and beckoned the lupine with a motion of his fingers; it had nothing but bestial fury and hatred in its eyes. It didn't even bother ripping the arrow from its ribcage, it just sank back into the shadows. Only a fraction of a second later a black paw of feral fury struck out from the shadowed wall behind Donovan. He spun on his heel to meet the attack, and in dodging it the wolf lost its balance. As the wolf stumbled forward, Donovan reflexively extended his bow arm to block the plummeting lupine head. The bow's riser conked against a remarkably solid forehead, its owner found himself cursing at the mere notion of having such a sensitive device thrown out of balance.

             Donovan cursed internally at the very thought of putting another hundred and twenty bucks into having his bow rebalanced and synchronized. Fury pulsed through his veins and this was the only excuse he needed to take this hunt to a more intimate level. He tossed his bow to Maverick who set it gently on the ground. 

            Donovan unsheathed his claymore, the Quantum Wind, and planted himself in a solid footing with his blade forward, waiting for the wolf to make the first move.

            Before the shadow lupine could accept the invitation, Wind came diving like a falcon from the darkness above. He descended with swiftness and silence, planting a silver dagger in the back of the werewolf. Wind dropped to the ground and did a back flip to avoid the werewolf, _and Donovan's claymore_. Only an instant later there was a deafening thunderclap from the rooftop above, a .50 cal slug passed inches in front of Wind's face and ripped through a red BMW's engine block, embedding itself deep into the ground. 

            Rob keyed up. "Uh Boss, sorry about that, barrel breach."

            Donovan didn't respond in any other way than a small twitch in his left eyebrow. With another eight hundred bucks out, he wasn't in the mood for talking. He also wasn't waiting any longer, he took a step forward and pivoted his torso to follow his swing. Donovan brought his sword in for the werewolf's waist. Just before the blade connected, the wolf sank into the shadowed pavement below and reappeared behind him.

Donovan turned to swing again. Maverick who had finished spinning his Red Hawk on his right index finger after having refilling the cylinder, took aim. Depressing the trigger he tapped the hammer in two quick bursts. The .44 magnum roared like a sub-machine gun as six silver jacketed rounds momentously entered the black wolf's right side. Donovan's sword finally met the wolf, it severed its left arm and cleaved deep into its ribcage.

            The shadow werewolf's face was blank as blood poured from its mouth. Donovan put a boot to the wolf's chest, and in one swift motion he pushed with his heel, and pulled on his sword's hilt. The fifty-inch sword slid free with ease as the limp body of the lupine prey hit the ground. 

            Donovan keyed up, "Wolf down… Rob, how is that damn thing?"

            "Not good sir, the barrel breached and the chamber was blown apart, damn near killed me, I have small piece of the bolt in my left arm but I'll live."

            Donovan made an unhappy squint. "Wonderful, toss down the bags then pack it up. Maverick, Wind, head up to the rooftop and prepare for departure. Beast help me pick up the bodies."

            A black drawstring bag fell from above; Wind caught it and tossed it to Donovan.

He opened it and removed three folded body bags. All three of the werewolves had reverted to naked mutilated humans, which needless to say required cleaned up. Donovan knelt down to remove his arrow, then slid the perforated one-armed corpse into a bag. After unsheathing his knife he fished around in a bullet wound just below the man's clavicle. The knife clicked against something metallic and Donovan worked it lose with his fingers. He held the deformed, bloody ball of silver and lead up to the dim light of a lamppost. The vampire examined the .44 cal FMJ semi-wadcutter only for a moment before placing it in a plastic bag, having decided to keep it for ballistic analysis.

            Beast bagged the other bodies and Donovan radioed in the chopper for transport to the next location. The moon was full and there was more than one pack of werewolves in New York.


End file.
